


A fitting apology

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [13]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deviates in Season 4, F/M, Fluff, Insecure Jaime, JBWeek-2019, Possessive Jaime, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smut (sort-of), jealous jaime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 23:57:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20920781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: In a rather pathetic attempt to bury his growing feelings for Brienne, Jaime subconsciously resorts to his usual technique - insult her to keep his real emotions from her despite conscious efforts to avoid hurting her.Set after the iconic insult/flirting attempt "Are you sure we're not related?", Jaime is hit by a pang of guilt and wants to apologize, but as his luck would have it, he messes it up.





	A fitting apology

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ro_Nordmann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/gifts).

> To the talented Ro_Nordmann :)  
Loved all your cover work, particularly the ones you had made for me. Keep spreading the JB goodwill, friend :)

[ ](https://i.imgur.com/JEWxrJ7.jpg)

Lovely cover art by Ro Nordmann. Thank you so much for sharing <3

_Gods, I’ve hurt her!_

The thought began haunting him the moment he’d huffed away in a fit of frustration, his solitary return to the castle plagued by thoughts of how he ought to have spoken instead of unnecessarily snapping at Brienne. His unwarranted comments about her looks had been unreasonably nasty and in absolute bad taste, when all she’d done was point out his ineptitude and inaction. 

He’d insulted her for the second time this week, thus going back on a silent resolution that he would let his new-found respect for her manifest itself in his words and actions, and that was something his conscience kept tormenting him about ever since he’d taken her leave that morning.

He could have immediately returned to apologize. He wanted to, but something held him back, left him worried that he might fuck up his words again. Ever since he’d saved her from the bear, things had changed between them, as had his thoughts about her. Much to his worry, his interest in Cersei began waning with every passing day, replaced by the urge to see the wench and get closer to her.

He wanted to sit with her every day, talk to her and get to know her better, but every fucking time he tried, he’d ended up a bumbling idiot and a disaster, his nerves leaving him completely disoriented the moment he saw her. Every time he opened his mouth in her presence, his words refused to align with his thoughts, and all that slipped past his lips were sarcasm-infused remarks.

“If you keep going like this, there won’t be much of you left for me to train,” Bronn commented, dragging him to his feet for what was, perhaps, the hundredth time that morning.

“I was distracted,” Jaime mumbled, rubbing his aching arse, his troubled mind unable to stay away from the wench.

A smirk filled Bronn’s roguish features. “It’s that big woman, isn’t it? You can’t--”

His hand flying to Bronn’s chest, he grabbed a fistful of leather. “Her name’s Brienne of Tarth,” he roared, seething with rage. “She’s a high-born lady, call her by her name.”

To his surprise, Bronn’s smugness was untouched and his eyes shone with sly mischief instead of the anger Jaime had expected. “I could take you down in a second--no--half a second if you don’t take your hand off me, Lannister,” he drawled, the composure in him steady as a rock despite the provocation.

Unwilling to begin an altercation, Jaime released him, inhaling deeply to calm himself down.

“That proves,” said Bronn evenly, not taking his prodding eyes off Jaime for even a second.

“Proves what?”

The smirk on the bloody sellsword’s face developed into a grin. “That you want to fuck her.”

His face suddenly on fire, Jaime had to make an effort to stay on his feet. “I don’t,” he denied the allegation.

The awful grin wiped off, Bronn narrowed his brows. “You don’t?”

“I don’t,” Jaime declined again, forcing a bit of firmness in his tone this time.

Much to Jaime’s chagrin, the annoying grin returned to taunt him. “Good!”

His confusion and mixed-up feelings assuming a lesser priority for the time being, Jaime found himself trapped in a desperate need to find out what Bronn meant. “What’s so good about that?”

“Since you’re not interested, I thought I might try my luck with her. She’s quite attractive and I’d very much like to fuck her--”

Before he could stop himself, Jaime pounced on him, once again attacking his clothes. “Stay away from her, you understand? She’s not some cheap whore you can just fuck and cast aside. She’s a respectable, honourable, virtuous--” 

He stopped when he noted the odd look on Bronn’s face. “What?” he demanded, stepping away.

“I just thought you wanted to fuck her,” Bronn mused, his eyes distant and mysterious, “but this is something more. This goes far deeper than--”

“That’s enough for today,” Jaime snapped, then picked up his sword and rushed to the exit.

“Deny all you want, Lannister,” Bronn laughed behind his back, “but you can’t deny it to _yourself_, can you? And make a move on her before I do, or someone else does, otherwise you might regret it.”

Jaime turned on his heel, gritting his teeth. “You’re not her type,” he retorted, hoping he was right.

“Maybe not,” said Bronn with a shrug, “but what if I am? And what if she’s into men like me?”

“I don’t care what she’s into,” Jaime scoffed, more to pacify his tumultuous heart as he strode up the stairs, Bronn’s words and his suggestion that other men might be interested in the wench evoking a terrible wave of apprehension inside him.

+++++

The day had ended, but the insecurity that bothered him refused to go away, his restlessness doubled by the incessant push by his conscience to apologize for the repeated caustic remarks he’d flippantly thrown at her over the last few days. He tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling, hoping the blankness and darkness might bring him some relief, but no such luck was to favour him, and Bronn’s words kept ringing through his head, prompting him to get the fuck up and barge into her chambers right now.

_ I don’t want to fuck her, _he told himself, jumping off the bed and groping in the darkness for a shirt to put on.

_ I don’t care if Bronn wants to have her for himself, _he reiterated his indifference, reaching out for the nearest pair of trousers that lay beside him.

_ Nor am I bothered if she’s interested in him or any other fucking cunt in this world, _he growled, tripping twice on his trouser leg before fumbling with his laces in yet another unsuccessful attempt to clothe himself.

_ This isn’t any deeper than respect, _he fought his arguing inner self, marching out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

_ I’m just going to apologize to her and get the hell out of there, _he assured himself, making his way through the dimly lit passages.

_ She means nothing to me, no more than just an acquaintance, _he almost said aloud, pounding on her door the moment he’d reached.

_ I’m out of here in the next few minutes, _he decided, but when the door swung open and she emerged, all he could do was gape at her, his eyes travelling over her, taking her in from top to toe. 

Her vivid eyes seemed to get prettier by the day, and never before had the creamy skin of her long neck appeared this delicious. The less he saw of the enticing swell of her breasts, the better, his cock twitching wildly when he recalled what lay beyond that obstructing shirt - the clear-as-daylight visions of Harrenhal returning to agitate him.

“What can I do for you?” she demanded, making to attempt to invite him in.

“You’d have to let me in before offering to do anything else for me,” he responded in the same harsh vein, hoping the deliberate sting in his tone would tame down the growing discontent, conflict and _something else_ within him.

The blue eyes bore hard into his, threatening to rip through his soul, but then she relented, stepping aside to let him enter. “Well?” she asked again, crossing her arms to her chest when she’d shut the door.

“How much of Bronn have you been seeing lately?” he inquired, the original intent of this visit completely sidelined as he held his breath for her reply.

Her eyes shrank, in irritation, perhaps, at his unsolicited curiosity. “Why should that be of any interest to you?”

Her avoidance of his question told him everything, the insecurity and the stinging feeling that he’d lost it all pounding through every vein in his body, tearing apart every nerve beneath his skin. “So you _ are _ into him,” he concluded, striding across to narrow the distance between them until they were less than a foot apart. “He is, it appears, your type, wench.”

Her eyes burned bright again. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t pretend,” he barked, swaying his face dangerously close to hers, “I know what’s cooking between you two.”

“Do you?” she hissed, her eyes spewing flames at him. “Tell me then.”

“You want to fuck him,” he shouted, his heart thumping so hard that he could hear it.

Her glare deepened. “What--”

Anger blinding him, he didn’t let her speak, an explanation or an excuse the last thing he wanted to hear. “I can see it all now,” he continued to hurl the facts he knew at her, breathing heavily into her face. “You’re attracted to him and he to you, and all you both want is to tear each other’s clothes off.”

Her voice raised, she put up a defiant stand. “What in the seven hells gave you that idea?”

He looked straight into her eyes. “Don’t you want to fuck him?”

She took a moment to breathe, rubbing her palm on her trousers and dashing his hopes to pieces with a terse, “I don’t have to answer that.”

A feeling of utter uselessness sweeping through him, Jaime bit the inside of his cheek. “I’ll take your leave then,” he mumbled, conceding defeat. “Goodnight, Lady Brienne, and forgive me if I’ve bothered you.”

“I don’t,” came her soft intervention when he’d reached the door.

He wheeled around, a glimmer of hope breaking into the darkness he’d been pushed into. “You don’t--what?”

“I don’t want to--” she stuttered, the edges of her ears bearing a tint of red.

Determined not to leave things hanging heavily in the air, he resumed his interrogation. “Aren’t you attracted to him?”

“The hell not! Definitely not Bronn,” she hotly denied. “There’s no one except--” reddening, she abruptly swallowed her words.

Relieved, though he was, by her confirmation, Jaime was no fool to miss the hint, once again struck by a bolt of trepidation, a sinking fear that perhaps Bronn had been the wrong target he’d been chasing. “Except what?” he cautiously asked, hoping she wouldn’t come up with a name.

The wisp of the rare womanly mannerisms vanished as quickly as it had appeared on her face, and once again back to her prickly self, she dismissed him with a curt, “Nothing, now if you’ll excuse me--”

Two long strides, and he was back into the room, blocking her path before she could withdraw beyond his reach. “I won’t leave without achieving what I came here for.”

“You’re here to insult me, I’m sure,” she guessed, “as you’ve been doing all these days, and you've just managed to remarkably succeed in your attempt tonight, so why don't you just leave me--”

“I came to tell you that I--” _ love you, _was the first thing that came to his mind, the shock of the realization stunning him into silence, the rest of the words flying off his head and out of the window.

“I’m sure it’s far from something nice,” she dryly surmised.

“Will you stop making such assumptions about me, Brienne?” he jumped at her, agitated that she refused to see past his flaws, adamant about her sour opinion of him.

“Assumptions, you think?” she fumed, her eyes twice their usual size. “Let’s list down all that you’ve done--” she held out her hand, counting with her fingers. “Just this morning you insulted my looks. Last week, you made a harsh comment pointing out the absence of ladylike features in me, and the week before that was the same--”

Ashamed of his behaviour, he tried to explain, to make amends for his strong words. “Brienne--”

But she was barely listening to him, every inch of her face contorted with rage. “When we were travelling, you called me ugly, you mocked my virginity and condescendingly offered to sleep with me--”

“That may have sounded condescending, but I meant it,” he blurted out without thinking, recalling how aroused he'd been that day.

Abruptly pausing her onslaught, she blinked several times, then stared at the floor, flustered by his revelation.

With another step, he shortened the gap between them to nearly nothing. “I came here tonight to check if you were interested in Bronn,” he admitted to part of the truth.

Her lashes fluttering in the most adorable way he’d seen, she met his eyes. “Why?”

Ignoring her question and having no wish to rely on his precarious nerves and fallible wordplay, he decided to try a different tack to lay bare his desires and the innermost secrets of his heart. “I’m going to kiss you,” he declared, inching his lips over hers, hoping she wouldn’t turn him down, or worse than that, punch him in the groin.

To his relief, no resistance came, and her lips parting slowly, she moved a bit towards him. “Do it then,” she breathed, her hands coming to rest on his stomach. “Kiss me,” she commanded, her fingers riding up his chest, teasing the exposed skin on his neck and throwing his cock into a state of frenzy. “What’s stopping you, Jaime?”

_ Jaime. _

She’d called him by his name. No goddamned title, no distant wall of formality to separate them, no conflicting loyalties, at least for the moment, to keep them apart. She was here tonight. With him, not Bronn or Renly or any other idiot that roamed the world. 

Just the two of them. Nothing else mattered. No one else did.

The heat within him exploding now that the pressure of his suppressed feelings had reached its peak, he pulled her into his arms and seized her lips. He began kissing her like a man deprived of touch for ages, a soul craving for affection. He sucked her lip, and she moaned helplessly into his mouth, her arousal reducing him to a hard and painful mess. He nibbled at her tongue, and she sighed in agony, the warmth of her breath the most seductive thing to have breezed past him. He caressed her breast, and she yelped in delight, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, spreading it open. She slid her fingers onto his sweaty skin, and his cock sprang to life again, swelling in reverence to her touch. She dragged him into her, and he staggered to sustain his balance, his achingly erect hardness prodding her thighs when he pinned her to the wall, reminding him of what he wanted, of what he could give her.

He consumed her like a man starved for years, his hunger crossing all passable limits, and she drank him in, her thirst for him unlike anything Cersei had ever displayed even in their wildest nights of fucking.

“I’m sure you’ve never kissed Bronn or anyone else like this,” he rasped, struggling to keep his wits once he’d let go of her mouth, “and I’m certain as hell you never will.”

“I told you I was never interested in Bronn or anyone else,” she gasped, sweating profusely as she held on to him, “except--”

“Finish that sentence for gods' sake,” he cried in desperation, burying his face in her chest. “Stop killing me like this, wench,” he begged, sinking his teeth into the moist patch of skin below her collarbone.

“Don’t you think it’s obvious?” she whimpered, digging her fingers into his hair when he set out on a wet trail down her breasts, making efficient use of his teeth to get rid of whatever bit of hindering clothing he met.

Words weren’t necessary after that, nor was there a need for their clothes anymore, and they took to clumsily undressing each other, every piece of garment they’d worn flung aside in a hurry, cast to the floor where it would be forgotten until dawn.

How they’d managed to make it to the bed was a miracle, but soon they lay there, wrapped in each other, his lips seeking hers to begin another never-ending stream of fiery kisses, whilst their hands took to exploring whatever bit of skin they could reach. The sweet sound of their mating mouths was music to his ears, heightening his lust for her to a peak, and not far behind was the heady sensation of sweat mingling with sweat, her wet glistening skin the prettiest he’d seen in a woman.

Fucking Cersei had been his privilege all these years, but with Brienne it was turning out to be a different story, _ fucking _ making way to lovemaking and many emotions far deeper than that. With Cersei, it used to boil down to what she wanted and her pleasure, but Brienne gave more than she received, laying soft touches on him where it mattered, playing with his senses and teasing his patience, evoking sensations in him he’d never known he could experience. Cersei cared more for his body, whereas with Brienne, he came to realize as they traveled on their joint quest for heaven, it was the union of their hearts, souls and their very existence, and not merely their flesh. 

She shivered when he touched her, and responded in shy whispers when he breathed sweet nothings in her ear, and he considered himself blessed, the anticipation of becoming one with her incomparable to any emotion he’d ever felt.

With a roar, he rammed into her, his hips slamming violently against hers, and she screamed his name when his thighs slapped into hers, the blend of their feral cries taking him to new levels of bliss, the completeness that he felt when he was inside her bringing him far more pleasure and contentment than anything else.

He kept up a furious pace, pounding and thrusting like he’d never done before, and she matched him move for move as if she was made for him, and he, for nestling snugly in the warm depths of her. 

Tonight. And forever.

He watched her dissolve into raptures of ecstasy when she came, the pleasure in her eyes the most beautiful sight he beheld, none to match it, nothing else to compete with the innocence and beauty of the woman beneath him.

Unable to hold himself any longer, he caved in, surrendering to the one who had now become a part of his soul. With a massive thrust to put an end to the storm within him, he collapsed onto her - an end he’d never experienced before. 

“Jaime,” she welcomed his mouth with a soft sigh, and him in her arms, telling him that this was where he belonged. 

That this was the woman he belonged to. 

Words, again, weren’t necessary for a while, as they lay intertwined with each other, their bodies fused in a tired embrace, in perfect unison, singing the tunes of love Cersei had never graced him with before.

“I shouldn’t have insulted you,” he said at last, stroking her blonde locks, “when that was the last thing I meant. I had come here to apologize for my insolence, my lady.”

She leaned up to plant a little kiss on his mouth. “A fitting apology, it was,” she said with an impish smile. “I quite enjoyed it.”

“I love you, Brienne,” he confessed, before his nerves or anything else could hold him back again, “and I can’t stand the thought of Bronn or anyone else--”

“It can never be anyone else,” she stopped him with her lips before he could finish. “It will always be you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Pointless fluff, really, but do let me know if you enjoyed it.


End file.
